


the sky above us

by tolya



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Graphic Description, Hurt No Comfort, Post musical, Romance, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 02:03:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16007990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tolya/pseuds/tolya
Summary: look over your hill and stay still, the sky above us shoots to kill rain down rain down on meand I will hold onat the edge of a river Anya loses the last piece of her homeland.





	the sky above us

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to write some angsty stuff.
> 
> part of a larger post-musical plot I've been toying with in which gleb is purged and his cover up is exposed (cause he had to cover up all them shenanigans u dont cross thru Europe chasing down an alleged romanov heir and come back empty handed and LIVE TO TELL THE TALE w/o some sort of story) and it gets the whole gang into trouble with them crossing paths again. i sort of elude to it a few times.
> 
> anyway the best place to start is the end, right??
> 
> ps sorry for any editing errors i do all this on my phone
> 
> title and inspiration comes from the song thistle & weeds

_corrupted by the simple sniff of riches blown_  
_i know you have felt much more love than you've shown_  
_and I'm on my knees and the water creeps to my chest_

 

_plant your hope with good seeds_

_don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds_

 

 

She just wants to go home.

A full moon peeks through the clouds in the sky, illuminating the scene in soft pale grays. It's bright enough that she can see the reflection in the ripples of the river beside them, the ink-black water flowing by. She remembers how they would come and swim when the skies were bright blue and the sun had shone every day for a month straight. But now it was cold and the clouds above were sure to bring snow or rain and Anya doesn't care to find out which.

 She just wants to _go home._

Take hold of the man infront of her and turn towards the small cottage instead of the scene infront of them but there's a body not far from their feet and her hands are sore from fighting and she just wants-

He turns towards her then, face carefully void of expression. A hand comes up to his middle, covering a crimson stain blooming across the stark white of his shirt.

It's then she knows she won't be going home tonight.

 He takes a step towards her, the noise muffled, her ears hallowed out by gunshots. The movement fails and he falls to his knees.

  _"Gleb,"_ His name tumbles out of her mouth in an urgent whisper.

The ground feels like ice against her legs and she goes to the dirt with him, catching him before he completely collapses.

"It's okay." He says, as if he isn't lying on damp riverbank. She gathers him into her arms and tries to focus.

Numb fingers work quickly, she tears at the cotton of her dress slip. Folding it and shoving it under his own hand, pressing down hard. The bitter scent of copper fills her nose and his hand is warm and wet and she tries her hardest the put down the memories that threaten to swim forward.

Gleb's hiss of pain grounds her.

"Leave it there." She warns, "Someone must have heard the shots, people will come by soon."

It doesn't escape the both of them that they're a distance between the little town now, tucked away into the hills.

"Then you have to go." He says through a grimace.

She gives him an incredulous look, "I'm not leaving."

"If people are coming this is only going to raise questions." He argues. "You can't be here for it"

The townsfolk are kind, but two immigrants lying in a puddle of blood in the middle of the night would draw all the wrong sorts of attention.

The wind picks up around them, tugging at the blonde strands that had fallen free of the braid she had woven that morning in the living room mirror when everything was fine and Gleb slipped coffee in the kitchen and the radio played softly.

"I'm not going anywhere." She states firmly, swallowing down the emotion that comes with it. "You wouldn't leave me."

It's a statement he doesn't have an argument for. She shouldn't be surprised when he switches tactics.

"Anya," worry creases his brows, "It's unlikely this was the plan of a single man. It's almost certain another is nearby. You have to go."

He _is_ right then and she hates it. An old part of her says to run, deep into the thick of the woods, to hide and survive. She had done it once before after all.

Thoughts about how it was before fill her mind, when it wasn't just them. How long ago it felt since it was four of them, crossing borders and heated arguments. How four of them turned to three, disappearing into a city. How the tears had blurred the ink on the letter with too few words she left on the nightstand. How seamlessly she slipped into the night with the man she now held onto.

"No." She shakes her head, voice thick "If there's more let them come. I'm tired of running"

His expression softens, his eyes seeks out hers. She can't meet them. She can't see his resignation and the gentleness that comes with it. She sniffles and rubs her cheek against her shoulder to ward of the prick of tears that sting her eyes and nose.

_"Anya."_ The name falls from his lips this time in sweetest and most tender of tones.

It's the only name he had ever called her she both cherishes and hates it about him. That he refuses to see anything apart from then a wayward street sweeper, tying her to a part of their home that wanted them both gone now. But also the admiration in his gaze that always came with it, how he had always understood the pain of each step in her life and the work it took to get where she was.

"No." She states firmly, "You don't get to cross Europe twice and take a ship halfway around the world just to leave now."

A cool, dry hand finds the curve of her jaw and tips it down towards him. A gesture too familiar, too soft. Her heart clenches in her chest. She can't help but lean into it, his fingers forming to cup her face, thumb brushing away the tears she had tried so hard not to let fall.

"It's okay." He tells her again, as his breathing isn't too fast and her dress isn't stained with dirt and blood.

"You have to hold on." The image of him swims and blurs with her tears. "You can't leave. I can't do this again."

"Yes you can." Even with his voice growing weaker, he sounded so sure. "If you were not, Moscow would not keep sending it's best after you."

"You once called me an underhanded girl." She reminds him.

His fingers find a loose golden curl, tucking the curl behind her ear before resting just above her heart.

"And how very wrong I was." He gives her a look of awe, the smallest of smiles still dimpling his cheeks.

Time was running out, she could feel it slipping through her fingers and she couldn't seem to hold on. The first tendrils of grief wrapping around her.

"I don't regret it." Gleb says suddenly, his voice low raspy now, how she would give anything in that moment to hear it boom across the streets of Saint Petersburg one more time.

He swallows, and continues "Any part of it. Everything that's happened to me, I would do it all again."

"Don't talk like that," Her fingers comb through his hair, she didn't remember when the gray streaks had appeared at his temples.

"It's the truth." He tells her, and pauses for a moment  collecting his words."I only wish I could have kept you safe closer to... to home."

Every corner of her body aches at the longing in his voice. Pulling at parts of her that hadn't hurt in years.

"We'll go back." She promises him, her heart shattering into pieces with each word, "Like you wanted to do all those years ago. We'll hide in the mountains or Siberia. Right under their noses, they'll never find us."

The corner of his mouth quirks up, "Yeah? What will we do then? Farm?"

The image of springtime with Gleb in a loose shirt and suspenders, fully out of his element trying to herd in a flock of unruly chickens fills her mind and she can't help but give a watery smile back, "Yes."

Faintly, the sound of voices echo off the trees in the distance. She's certain she's imagining it until the loud snap of dogs barking reaches her ears.

She doesn't pay it any attention. _Too late_ she thinks, _you've come too late._

Gleb's eyes grew hazy and half lidded, "Together?"

She nods, words getting caught in her throat, "Yes, of course."

"Sounds like a dream."

She leans down, pressing her lips against his forehead, "A good dream."

"A _beautiful_ dream." He murmurs back.

He goes quiet then. His head lulls towards her middle, his hand limply falls away from her. A sob escapes her lips.

Another gust of wind blows past them, kicking up musty leaves with it. The voices are closer now, she can almost make out the words.

She holds onto the man in her lap as tightly as possible, her face buried in his shoulder, clinging to last of the warmth slowly fading away from him.

Quietly, she weeps alone into the dark.

 

**Author's Note:**

> yeesh.


End file.
